


Day to Day Rulership

by Polarissruler



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Everybody wants to go home, Everybody wants to sleep, Gen, Humor, Rulers ruling the Heroic Spirits, Slice of Life, Workplace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26611885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polarissruler/pseuds/Polarissruler
Summary: Have you wondered how the Rulers fill up their time between Grail Wars? Do you want to know who decides the laws that bind Heroic Spirits? Why is the Throne of Heroes not filled with Bathory's endless concerts? A look in the working lives of four Rulers.
Kudos: 6





	Day to Day Rulership

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everybody! This is the work I've been preparing for some time. First, some explanations - I've included only four Rulers because I know only their personalities well. (And I am still worried about getting them wrong). If I ever feel comfortable about including more, they will become part of the overworked crew.
> 
> Second, the Taiga story is completely outlined and you could expect the first chapter in the following week.
> 
> Third, I hope you enjoy this little fic as the Rulers deal with the daily problems in the Throne of Heroes. The first chapter is a little prelude to the things that would come.
> 
> Fourth, any comments (including criticism) are welcome!

“Six thousand sixty-eight! Ha! Six thousand sixty-nine!”

Shirou stirred in the uncomfortable bed, woken by the loud voice. He could almost pinpoint the woman speaking - they had met often, the counting very familiar to her. If only - yawn! - Shirou was a tad more awake…

“Semi,” he guessed, “would you keep quieter? Yesterday job took too much on me; give me a few more minutes.” His fingers reached to the other half, trying to twist Semiramis’ long, silky hair. He touched greasy, short locks - yet they still carried the sharp smell of strong spirits she boiled into potent poisons. “New haircut?” He rolled over and his face fell in her hair.

“Six thousand seventy!” The merciless counting continued.

Shirou should have realized it came from away, but his sleepy mind forced the thought away.

“Fine,” he whispered in Semi’s neck - lower than usual. Had she shrunk overnight? Shirou giggled at the image of tiny Semiramis, tyrannically destroying people with her Hanging Gardens. “Good morning, Semi.” He opened his eyes.

In front of a short, blue mop messy hair.

“I appreciate the sentiment boss,” the boy spoke with a deep voice, “but I am not your Semi.”

“Ah!” Shirou jumped away - and on the floor. A few Black Keys fell out of his sleeves and littered the floor. The tiny black couch loomed over him; Andersen was observing him from above. “Sorry!” Shirou was blushing red; he looked down, away from Andersen. Wait - “What are you doing at my home?”

“Boss,” Andersen smirked and jumped off the couch, “how much do you remember of last night?”

“I finished work and went home…” Lying on the floor - just a tad more uncomfortable than the sofa - Shirou looked around. Five long couches - each in a different color - surrounded a large table. Two white and one pink envelope mountains loomed over a tiny valley, one of them growing with each moment. The unread pile, the rejected pile, and Bathory’s complaints. Between them lay two-three opened envelopes - the approved complaints. Four full coffee cups dreadfully balanced on the overfilled table’s edge.

“You caught the snooze second,” Andersen explained. “It was pretty admirable - you shouted “The fatigue will never stop me from helping my fellow Heroic Spirits,” downing coffee after coffee. Alas, you lost before -”

“Six thousand hundred!” Another shout cut Andersen’s tale. Shirou turned to the purple couch - which was currently used as a training weight by Saint Martha.

“Morning!” she shouted. “Six thousand hundred and one! Hey, would you help me a little?” She pushed the couch up. “I started training before the sleep caught me - keeping myself moving and all that. Thought I’ll get some more work done.” She relaxed her arms and neared the floor, long hair falling over her face. “But I can’t read the complaints from here, and if I stand up, the couch might fall and break. So…”

“Do not even look at me,” Andersen said. He stretched his thin arms out. “Do you think I can move something so heavy?”

Shirou yawned. He pushed himself up with shaking arms. “A moment, Martha.” He dragged himself sluggishly towards her, rubbing his eyes. Who had asked for such a large chamber? As Shirou neared her - “Okay, now…” - some fallen envelopes slipped under his feet. “Ouch!” His left foot twisted; pain bolted his ankle. He flailed arms to keep balance - one step… The other foot - free in the air - kicked his ankle. Shirou fell on the purple couch, face first.

“You alright?” Martha asked from underneath. “I might be strong, but after a night of non-stop exercises only Heracles could push a loaded couch up.”

“Understood.” Shirou stood up - the pain gone as fast as it came. “Ready? This time I’m not falling.” He smiled and put hands under the couch, touching Martha’s back.

“I hope so.” Martha smiled. “You have two Saints’ blessing - do it.” A trickster’s small grin lit her face.

Shirou pushed the couch up. “I am not exactly a saint, but if you believe in me… Ouch!” His arms strained. He clenched teeth, forcing the heavy load up - blessed was the Servant’s power. Little by little, the coach rose.

“Thanks!” Martha said as soon as the weight left her back and swiftly rolled to the side. “You can put it down now!”

“No…” Shirou panted, “Problem…” He let the couch and it slammed on the floor. “Where… Where are the rest of us?” he asked, sitting on the soft purple pillows.

“Hm,” Martha put a finger on her chin. “Around sit-up one thousand, Jeanne went to the bathroom. Let’s check there!”

She walked across the huge room with gentle steps to avoid the minefield of envelopes and Black Keys. “Wow, it’s quite the mess here!” she said while leaning on the red couch, her left foot in the air. “We have to clean up sometime.”

“Yes, pour more chores on our heads. It’s not like we are already overworked by complaining about complaints,” Andersen huffed. He strolled to the tiny corridor, stomping over every letter in his way. “Coming, Shirou?”

Shirou stood up. His legs ached, ready to drop him on the floor at the slightest notice. He waddled through the room, swinging like an upturned pendulum. Each step hurt more than - “Ouch!” Shirou’s ankle hit the table. He slammed in the tiny hollow that separated two piles. The paper towers shook mightily, rustling with the whispers of ancient forests.

“Good grief,” Andersen sighed. “We almost had to pick them together again.”

“No!” Martha froze in place. “Ugh, so many days wasted reading papers and remembering if we agreed with this or that! Cannot we approve everything and help the other Heroic Spirits?”

“We could -” Shirou shot the pink mountain a glance “- if we can convince everybody to attend Bathory’s hourly concerts.” As if Bathory heard him on the other side of the town, a new envelope formed on the unread mountain. Shocking pink, unlike the pristine white.

“Let’s find Jeanne so that you can read and throw away the complaints before they flood the room,” Andersen ordered. “Shoo, shoo! Go!”

“Understood!” Holding his breath, Shirou pushed himself up. One mistake and… Shirou gulped. He would pick letters and order them until the end of the time! No worries, no worries! He would not disturb the fragile towers. Little by little, he rose above the table, his feet carefully touching the floor. He stood up, arms tight to the body. After a few long-drawn, careful steps, he allowed himself to exhale.

“Took you long enough!” Andersen scowled and crossed his arms. “While you were taking your sweet time, we found the girl.”

Shirou ran through the large hall and into the tiny corridor that led to the restrooms. Andersen and Martha stood there, leaning on the walls. In their legs lay a purple ball of fabric - the same shade of purple as…

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Andersen spoke, “the great Maid of Orleans.”

“Brave girl,” Martha whispered a eulogy. “Fought long after midnight. Refilled the coffee jug at least five times.” She closed her eyes. “If anyone deserves to rest, it is her.”

Andersen gently (at least he would call it gently if asked) kicked Jeanne. She rolled over, golden locks falling over her sleeping face. Her angelic smile looked so serene as if she lived in a world with no worries.

“Can we let her sleep?” Shirou asked. “Give her the rest she deserves.”

“You know how it is - all of us need to vote on the complaints.” Martha bowed down and held Jeanne’s shoulders. “Come on, girl. Time for work.” She nudged her, the way a mother woke up a child.

“We have decided that - we can vote to change it. If Jeanne wants to sleep…”

“I am awake!” Jeanne’s eyes opened wide. A long yawn escaped her lips. “I think.” She turned her hair left and right. “This is not the sofa, right? Ouch! Why I feel as if I have slept on the floor?”

“You did,” Andersen replied.

“Yeah. You spent so much time working, that your body decided to shut down without asking your brain.” Martha let Jeanne’s arms. “That’s how you ended asleep just out of the bathroom.”

“Go back to your couch. You can sleep in today.” Shirou smiled. “You deserve it. We will cover for you.”

Jeanne closed her eyes. “More sleep,” she yawned, “sounds nice.” She leaned on the wall. “And if you will…” Her arms fell by her side. Her knees bent slightly. “No! I swore to uphold this job - to make sure everything follows the best interests of the other Heroic Spirits. I have to keep that oath at any cost - even if I sleep for only an hour every night.”

“Jeanne…” Shirou tried to reply.

“And,” she scowled, “I don’t trust you taking charge.”

“Please! I tried to steal the Grail once. Only once!”

“And it is more than enough.” Jeanne pushed him away and returned to the hall. Holding back another yawn with great strain, she slumped on the nearby red couch - right over the lump under the covers.

“Ouch!” Quetzalcoatl shouted. “What is it with Rulers nowadays - haven’t you been taught to check if someone’s sleeping before you start sitting over them? That’s a big no, no, no!”

“Good morning to you, too, Quetzalcoatl,” Jeanne pushed herself up with a yawn. “Ready for work?”

“Work?” Quetzalcoatl asked. “No, no, no! Work starts once the sun rises, and the sun rises once I tell it to rise! Gods need their sleep, too!”

“Believe me,” Martha walked to blinds and pulled them up, “we all want to sleep. But Alaya has other plans for us.” The sun rays filled the room.


End file.
